


Come Back

by PhantasmaDormi



Series: Syndianite/Diacate [1]
Category: Mianite - Fandom, Mianite(Minecraft Series), Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Characters come purely from the youtube series, Dianite is a God, M/M, Rare Pair, Tom is a zombie, Unrevised Older Works, originally on Tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2019-01-08 20:44:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12261738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhantasmaDormi/pseuds/PhantasmaDormi
Summary: (Pre-Mianite S1) A godless army waged battle for the Altar of the Gods. They lost. But so did Dianite.





	Come Back

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first work, dating back to the end of July.

A crisp chill had settled around the altar. A thick silence permeated the gloom cast upon this solemn scene. This particular altar held the scars of many practices, those of rituals, sacrifices to the gods, public executions, it was a sacred site. Everyone knew that; the men who sought to possess it, the men who chose to defend it, both the dead and survivors knew what this place meant.

In the shining light of the morning sun the ground beneath this beholden shrine was a rotten crimson, drawn from both friend and foe. Both the followers and godless wept for their fallen brothers. For those who fell to the greed of one man. This man, Arthur Canotry, was met by a fate far worse than death. For on this day, in the glaring sunlight, he was at the mercy of the Nether God. And Dianite had no room for mercy.

“Tell me,” a low growl sounded deep from within the god’s chest, “What gives you the right?” 

A sharp snap accented his query, the man on the ground before him releasing a shriek. “Did you bless yourself with a holiness worthy of such divine entitlement?” He ground his foot harder onto the mortal’s broken wrist.

“Have you become a god in your own right, are you on my level?” The skin around the divine being’s foot began to blister, a scorching wave of heat pumping through his arm. “Tell me heathen, what gives you the right,” Dianite spat at the agonized mortal below him. 

“Please,” he whimpered through choked gasps.

In a fluid motion Dianite removed his foot and held the man above his feet in a chokehold. “I don’t believe you have the right to ask anything of me,” he snarled, bloodied nails digging into the trembling man’s throat, piercing it. 

Arthur cried out again, sobbing, “Please… please don’t kill me.” The god released his grip on the man with a sneer, watching him crumple to his knees. 

“How many times have you heard that?” He kicked the man back, his form tumbling down the hundred stairs built in his name. “How many did you hear the pleas of? Laughed at them as you murdered their families, their friends?” 

Once the mortal found a stop at the base of the shrine the god teleported above his figure. “Did you find glee as you slaughtered my followers?” Dianite seemingly wandered amongst the bodies surrounding them. “Were you elated by their blood splattering upon your garments?” He stopped before a young male, one with a simple wound through the heart. This one had died within seconds.

“The feel of your blade ripping through men and women alike, soldiers who believed in defending their home, did it satisfy you?” With a reverence belied by his vicious tone he stroked the cheek of the fallen warrior, his face forever frozen in determined vigilance. 

The god leveled a glare at the leader of the wretched crusade. “Tell me, Sir Canotry, where was your mercy when faced with the pleas of unarmed civilians, when looking upon the faces of children.”

The godless commander had picked himself up from the ground, a commendable feat after the fall damage he had taken. On unsteady legs, he attempted to flee from the Nether God’s wrath. With a flick of his fingers, Dianite sent him crashing back down. From the slack fingers of the man before him he retrieved a sword, slim like a rapier, though longer, one of a set. With a final stroke to the man’s face he closed his eyes. He once more found himself before the fiend, who struggled against the godly force pinning him to the dirt. 

Driving the sword through Arthur's calf, he uninterestedly drawled, “Do you know who you killed?”

Arthur held no answers to his questions. He hadn’t believed in the gods, he hadn’t registered what they would do to him if they were real. The burns across his body had multiplied rapidly in his encounter with the god. His hope has dissipated. There was nothing a mere mortal could do to stand against such power. He knew but one thing: death would be a mercy.Upon a lack of response, the god, drug the blade up his leg, through bone and tissue alike. 

“He was special. He meant more to me than you have meant to anyone. He was an endless source of light. He protected his family, his friends, his home, far fiercer than you have ever done anything. He refused to fear my might, but he knew his limits, knew mine. He was a man far above your worth, one who the world needs far more than you. And you. Stole. His. Light.” He added pressure to his body with each sentence, listening with sick delight as he heard each sickening crunch, watched more fluid ooze from his body. With a wail, the man collapsed into himself, a pile of mush beneath the god. Just as he had always been. And his soul was to receive no respite.

In a blink, he returned to the fallen warrior, his fallen warrior. “Oh Tom,” he whispered somberly, “if only I had kept you with me.”

He waved his hand over the body and the blood on it fading to nothing, the wound closed. “But you would’ve fought me on that.” Dianite chuckled wistfully, scooping Tom into his arms. He never had the chance to court the fiery male. Never told him what he truly felt for him. His beloved champion died without knowing what he meant to him. And he knew, no matter how hard he tried, that he couldn’t keep Tom away from this fight without losing him. His only regret was not following him, destroying those who sought to harm him. But he’d be damned if he let this remain unresolved, let his love stay broken. His soul still lingered in this town, strong and luminescent. 

For Tom he would do anything, rebuild his home, seek vengeance on his behalf, fight death for him. And when he gets him back, the world would have to go through him to take him again.

**Author's Note:**

> (I promise these will get better as they go)


End file.
